The Doomed
by In The Blink of an Eye
Summary: Astrid Rosen is trapped in a B&B with her best mate and her brother in the middle of the Scottish Countryside. Can she survive the hoards of zombies fighting to get in?
1. Victory at All Costs

Chapter One

I banged the nail into the barricade as hard as I could without shattering my precious brush. Pickings were painfully slim. It wasn't exactly like you could go outside to the nearby store and buy a new hammer.

Why? The only answer available right now was zombies.

You see everyone over the age of 14 gradually turned into flesh hungry, drooling morons over the past week. Mum and dad were some of the first to go – and last thing we heard, a team of journalists were coming to investigate the mysterious epidemic. That was Friday, and it is now the Thursday of the following week.

I'm Astrid Rosen. Not really enough time for a life story. Currently, I am in a B&B in the middle of nowhere. (In essence, the Scottish Countryside) My brother William and my best friend Celia are with me, along with another 10 or so abandoned kiddies. Whoop whoop.

A greasy hand smears pus down the coloured glass in the side panels. I quickly make my escape. The firewood nailed to the door should keep them out.

The reason, we are not in possession of a hammer is that when the disease became worse, Mrs King (the cheerful house-keeper) took it out of the shed, for a weapon. Then she took it outside to fight the zombies and turned into a not so cheerful Mrs King with our precious hammer.

That is probably why we can hear a tap-tap-tapping at the front door. Mrs King wants her beloved Green Leaf B&B back, we think grimly.

"Hey Astrid, they've found a weak spot!" called William. I run into the downstairs bathroom where several zombified mothers are clambering up the firewood pile and reaching into the cramped bathroom. The first thing that hits me is the cold. The second is the firewood that Will has chucked at me. "Get wedging!" he yelled and ran out of the room to stop the smallest group of kids from letting the zombies in.

I think the little ones think that this is all a big game, and if we let the zombies in, then the adults will laugh and sweep us up in their arms. They'll just laugh, "Oh Astrid, you didn't fall for that surely?"

I think not as I batter swiping, bloody arms out of the miniscule window. Little Tim thought that and as a result, turned up at our doorstep. Two small sneakers, stubs of bone poking out and a tattered, stained pair of jeans. Oh yes, and some teeth.

That was when we realised it was much more serious.


	2. Trust is Life's Most Difficult Task

Within minutes, the window was safely barricaded and the downstairs toilet was safe from zombie attackers, for the moment.

I spotted Celia dashing through the hallway towards the front of the B&B. I chase after her. Celia never looks stressed, but when she does, it usually means something. "Celia!" I shouted, "Wait up!"

Unfortunately, Celia was a bit busy. "Sorry, but this is important! Maybe if you barricaded the door better, we wouldn't be in this situation."

I was confused. I had barricaded the front door well enough, hadn't I?

When I reached the door, there was one extra person who I didn't know standing there. She was tall, but she looked worried and windswept. A large knife dangled at her waist.

Celia's face relaxed and I realised that the door had been re-barricaded. But this girl had not been in this B&B before now. I asked who she was.

"My name is Lucy and I have been running from the zombies since my family turned."

I nodded. Most of us had already been through that experience. Lucy would be an extra mouth to feed, but, by the looks of it, she was a worthy extra fighter to help us keep the zombies out. I studied her face for any signs of the disease. You could never know who would be older than fourteen.

"How old are you?" I asked curiously.

"I've just turned fourteen." She replied. It didn't seem out of the ordinary. Then.

She had brown hair and clear blue eyes. A few small cuts slashed her face. I noticed her index finger slowly making circles on her malicious knife.

"Well Lucy, you don't seem to be a zombie," She laughed at my comment slightly, "so you can help us keep these monsters out of our little safe place, what about it?"

She nodded eagerly. Celia walked away, quickly pointing out important things in our B&B to Lucy. I suppose it was our B&B now. There was just something not right about Lucy. However hard I looked, I couldn't place a finger on it. The way she walked, the way she got through the marauding beasties three layers thick on the outside of the B&B.

I laughed to myself and advanced towards the stairs. Paranoid Astrid, that's me.


	3. What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

The following morning, I was awoken by the peaceful sound of rattling. And groaning. And moaning.

I decided to look up. A large dribbling mother stood next to my bed. They had got in overnight.

As slowly as possible, I slid my hand towards the kitchen knife that I kept by my bed. Thankfully, the moment did not seem to attract attention from the mother. She looked confused – so many ripe, juicy bodies to chose from. Oh the indecision.

I used her distraction to curl my fingers tightly around the knife. I bolted up and lunged towards her heart. Her zombified reactions were too slow and my weapon reached its target. Rivulets of murky crimson dribbled down her scrappy clothes.

Her eyes widened with shock and she gasped inhumanly. I twisted with a savage force and the rank corpse collapsed against me. I choked with the odour seeping into my nose.

The scuffle aroused the other kids around me, and they started waking up everyone else. Groans of drowsiness and calls of fear raced through the assembled kids.

How had the zombies got in so quietly? I shoved the body away, where it burst open on the floor. The mother's putrid boils erupted; the once clean carpet now looked like a battlefield.

There was no time to stare – if she had got up here, then the other bedrooms were in danger. I pulled on shoes and dashed out of the open door. Several older girls followed me. I charged down the corridor.

The evidence of zombie infestation was clear. Little blobs of drool decorated the floor and bloody handprints and sprays of gunk littered the wall. It looked like about five zombies had got in. The destruction all pointed in one direction – the younger boy's bedroom. I knew why. The little boy called Philip couldn't sleep with the door shut, so they had to keep it open. Someone must have forgotten to shut it again once he was asleep. The enticing aroma of six young meaty children would have alerted the zombies to the room first. Only the weak stragglers would stop to find harder kill.

As we neared the door, the scratches and handprints on the wall became closer and more urgent. I could begin to hear ragged harsh breathing and a sort of tearing sound. It couldn't be. But it was.

A small trail of unmistakably clear human blood trickled out of the door. I halted, the other girls almost crashing into me. We couldn't take on all the zombies by ourselves - we needed more back up. But if we woke up the boys, they would cause a racket, which would spook the zombies into attacking us too before we were ready to fight.

"Astrid?" One of the girls tapped me on the shoulder. I didn't even know her name. "What are we going to do?"

A few more girls ran up behind us. I turned to shush them quickly before they caused the zombies to come out. There were now eight of us. Eight of us could tackle five zombies, surely?

A man, a plan, a canal, panama. My dad's words danced in my head. My eyes were sticky. I felt faint with tiredness.

"You there – Bella," I pointed at a ginger girl, "Rouse the boys. No noise."

I beckoned at the girl who tapped me on the shoulder. "Collect the young girls. Round them up and keep them safe - take Celia." Celia glared at me.

"The rest of us, we take on the zombies." I pulled out my bloodied knife and flexed my fingers. It was time to test our strength as a fighting group.


	4. I am Become Death, Destroyer of Worlds

I placed a tentative finger on the door, and drew it back almost instantly. A gooey, sticky substance clung to my fingertip. I placed my hand on the door once more. This was no time to be picky. The door creaked open infuriatingly.

Four zombies crouched over a small body, ripping into the exposed flesh with their hands. Their faces dripped in gore. I set my eyes on my target. The target looked up at me.

I sprung forward and drove the knife with all of the restrained sadness and anger that I possessed into its horrible chest. It struggled and clawed at me, but the adrenaline surged the pain away. The top of the knife poked out of the back of the creature and it feebly scrabbled. A keening wail came from its throat and I pushed harder. It belched blood and rancid air clouded my sense of smell.

The knife made a horrible sucking sound as I withdrew it from the target. The thing that had once been what looked like a cook, folded in front of me. While I'd been attacking it, the other girls had killed two more, but one zombie shied up in the corner of the room. I advanced for the kill, but something stopped me.

The eyes looked almost human. Albeit, the rest of the creature was pitifully smeared in crap and pus, but the clear blue irises could have belonged to a living person. I paused, not knowing whether to spear the animal or not. I crouched down. Maybe the thing could be an adult with intelligence. Maybe this could be the next step!

I held out my hand. "Can you speak?"

Someone called my name. "Astrid! You idiot – get away from the monster before it chews your hand off!"

The sound distracted me and I turned to face the door, hand still outstretched. The next moment, there was searing pain. I screamed. The human-eyed zombie had taken advantage of me. I had a large shredded gash where my little finger used to be.

It looked pleased with itself as I scrabbled frenziedly backwards, clutching my wound. My blood pumped out between my fingers and the agonising pain overwhelmed me. Through the hazy vision that was my fading eyesight, I saw a girl stab a spear into the creature. The girl turned and I saw Lucy's face. It shifted and undulated.

She reached out to steady me but I was already falling. Her voice echoed and morphed. Fire was consuming my wrist slowly and I faded into a grey dream world.


	5. Dreams Are More Real Than Reality Itself

**Note to all readers: My computer is feeling down and doesn't seem to be showing up guest reviews. I can read the reviews from my email, but I can't reply to them. Also, to guest reviewer [Rebecca S] yes, Lucy is based off my friend Seddielover12! Thanks for all of your reviews, even if I can't reply. Last thing, I hope you don't find my chapters too short – I seem to find lots of good opportunities where I can post a new chapter.**

...

Mum was standing by our gate at our old house, with Dad's hand in hers. She gazed at me lovingly and smiled that careful little grin she always used to. It was back how it should have been, and there, behind them, was Will, holding his football. There had never been a zombie apocalypse at all. But as I tried to step forward, I found that I couldn't move.

And out of the shrubbery, from the depths of the bushes, bloody hands emerged and clawed at the ground. They were shortly followed by ragged arms and soon, it was clear that there were at least ten zombies behind my family.

I shouted – tried to warn them. But to my horror, my vocal chords wouldn't work. I tried to point, but my arms were glued to my sides. I could only watch helplessly as my family were advanced on by a horde of walking dead.

My family made no noise as the zombie slowly ripped and gnawed at their bodies, simply looking on at me and smiling. Why didn't you rescue us? Their eyes seemed to say. Why aren't you saving us?


End file.
